Mobius (39 page)

As we stood on the street, marveling at the sky, more than a thousand people materialized by some mode of dimensional transportation. I inspected the crowd of people that filled the street. They were in a state of frenzy, like a herd of panicked livestock.

“Like you,” said Fanbert, “these people aren’t from the Crux Galaxy. Their anatomy is strange to me.”

From the crowd emerged four Guardians. They moved toward Fanbert and disengaged their armor.

“I’m Rygel,” said the tallest of the four. “This is Tambo, Crenum, and Deakin.”

“I’m Fanbert. Why have you come here and who are these people?”

Rygel gestured to the sky. “If you haven’t noticed, a doomful swell of mystery consumes the Brahman Sprawl. We’re fleeing its wake of destruction. I was the closest to the phenomenon when it first appeared. I tried to contact my superiors, but found the Guardian network down. It became obvious this wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. After gathering as many people for rescue as possible, I fled to a galaxy farther from the phenomenon. There, I was able to locate another Guardian by the telltale of his dimensional transporter.”

“And consequently he found me,” said another Guardian. “The planet I was stationed on had highly advanced astronomical telescopes, which we utilized in an attempt to identify the phenomenon.”

“And what did you learn?” I asked.

“We learned that it’s unlike anything in the universe. It displays characteristics that defy logic. The word supernatural comes to mind. When it decides to consume a nearby galaxy, it grows outward at an impossible rate, as if the laws of the universe don’t apply. If I tried to define its constitution, I’d say it’s composed of an indefinable energy organized into a highly complex pattern. Even the dimensional fabric of space itself is being restructured.”

I looked fearfully at the glowing celestial phenomenon. “I’ve heard a similar description regarding the Fume’s constitution.”

“The similarity is frightening,” said the Guardian Rygel. “But the Fume has only ever manifested himself in the seven Galaxies, which are far from the borders of the Brahman Sprawl. It may have a likeness to the Fume’s exotic energies, but this isn’t one of his outpocketings into our universe. This is something different, something occurring independently within our own universe. The very fabric of our universe and all its dimensions and energies are restructuring into something fundamentally different.”

Orsteen leaned close to Theron. “The universe is evolving, just as the Fume said it would.”

“And without my influence,” I replied, somewhat relieved.

The Guardian Crenum stepped forward. “The most inconceivable aspect of the phenomenon is that we’re capable of seeing it at all. It should take millions of years for its light to reach us, given its distance. Somehow we’re able to see the phenomenon growing in real time. When does light travel faster than light?”

“When the universe is unraveling,” I said.

Crenum looked up at the celestial phenomenon with something like admiration. “Whatever it is, it’s extraordinary.”

The Guardian Rygel looked skyward as well. “Since the phenomenon continues to expand, we’ve had no choice but to move farther and farther away, skipping from galaxy to galaxy, locating fellow Guardians and rescuing as many people as our dimensional transporters will accommodate. Will you join us, Fanbert?”

Before Fanbert replied, I read his thoughts. He was on the verge of revealing the details of the Fume’s plan and our current quest to find Nara-Narayana.

More Guardians with this knowledge will only cause further conflict with my plans.

I seized upon Fanbert’s mind, so to fashion an adequate response for Fanbert to convey.

“I cannot,” said Fanbert decidedly. “My companions and I head closer to the phenomenon. We’re on a quest to find an ancient people, who command great insights into the universe. They may have a better understanding of the celestial phenomenon.”

“You risk death moving closer to the phenomenon, for what seems a mission of little promise.” Rygel looked at Fanbert doubtfully. “Who are these ancient people you speak of? I know nothing about them.”

“Their existence was hidden long ago on the orders of Nara-Narayana. I apologize, but I can’t tell you any more details. I suggest you continue moving farther from the celestial phenomenon, rescuing as many people as possible.”

For a moment, the four Guardians stared with distrust at us until at last the Guardian Rygel spoke. “As you wish. Good luck with your quest.”

With that said, the Guardians returned to the crowd. A minute later they were gone, and the streets were once again empty.

“I’m confused, Fanbert,” said Orsteen. “Shouldn’t we have enlisted their help and told them about the Fume’s plans to evolve the universe?”

Fanbert pulled at his ear. “It’s strange. I had every intention of doing just that, but was compelled by some deep impulse to do otherwise. Now that I contemplate my decision, I regret it.”

What am I becoming?
I thought.
A liar? A monster? Forgive me.

I patted Fanbert on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine without them. Let’s continue on our quest and find the lost world where the Prophets sleep.”

Fanbert nodded in agreement. “Before we leave this planet, we must stop at my bunker. We’ll require a special device to awake the Prophets when we find them. Also, the three of you should change into more suitable clothing. Yours are far too fancy for where we’re going.”

“Here’s Morion,” I said.

“Very good,” said Fanbert. “Gather around me and prepare to transport.”

We arrived in an enormous room. Despite its size, it provided little space to move around freely, since the floor was cluttered with heaps and mounds of random effects.

“We’re a hundred feet underground,” said Fanbert. “I excavated this place long ago to ensure my identity would remain safe. I possess many devices beyond the understanding of the natives of this world. If found, there would be many questions concerning my origins and intentions.”

Morion glanced around the room. “It looks like a dump. Why do you keep these stacks of newspapers? They appear useless, outdated, and a fire hazard.”

“Those are important historical documents. When the threat of paradox lingered, it was my duty to carefully monitor and archive them.” Fanbert looked harshly at Morion. “My job wasn’t an easy one. I alone was responsible for all the planets in the Crux Galaxy.”

Orsteen picked up a magazine with a scantily clad alien woman on the cover. “Was there ever really a possibility that anyone from this galaxy could’ve found Earth and caused a paradox?”

“I’m trained to underestimate no one. To do otherwise would be reckless.” Fanbert gestured to me. “At any time, the next Theron Mobius could’ve been born into this world with a mind for dimensional mechanics.”

Morion opened a glass case filled with crystal spheres. He picked one up and peered at its center, where a sparkling light was contained. “And what of these? What universe-toppling significance do they hold?”

“Be careful with that!” said Fanbert. “Those are my prisoners. Each crystal sphere holds a criminal serving their sentence in a dimensional realm—a self-contained prison. If you break them, they’d be released.”

Morion tapped on the sphere. “Are you saying there are people living in these crystal spheres?”

“Very bad people,” replied Fanbert, grabbing the crystal sphere and carefully returning it to the glass case.

He then led us to a table, where lay various devices of apparent complexity. Fanbert selected a device ten centimeters long, with the shape of two slender rods, fused and convoluted. “This is the device required to wake up the Prophets.”

I looked at the thing. “Tell us about these Prophets. Why are they sleeping and how do they know Nara-Narayana’s location?”

“About two hundred thousand years ago, the Guardian Army came across a rebel group that had discovered Nara-Narayana’s location. They were determined to undermine Nara-Narayana’s rule over the Brahman Sprawl by assassinating her. Since they didn’t have the convenience of dimensional transportation, they built massive ships capable of traversing the long distances across the Brahman Sprawl. Before they launched their ships, myself and a hundred other Guardians arrived at their planet. We tried to establish peaceful talks so to understand their motives, but they said they wouldn’t speak to the servants of the beast.” Fanbert paused in a moment of recollection. “They then tried to overtake us. Consequently, many of them were killed. Once we took hold of the situation, there was only a handful left. We decided to put them into temporal stasis until the threat of paradox had passed. Since the planet was so remote, we left them there in stasis, along with their ships.”

“Why do you call them the Prophets?” asked Orsteen.

“Some of the Guardians gave them this nickname as a joke, since when we asked them why they wanted to kill Nara-Narayana, they responded: ‘We’ve seen the future.’ We assumed they were talking about Earth.”

“So you never understood their motives?” I asked.

“Once we put them into stasis, we searched their ships and their encampment, but found few clues to reveal the reason they were against Nara-Narayana. However, after examining the remaining dead, we discovered they had performed strange mutilations upon their brains. We believed this might have contributed to their delusions.”

“Yet, if they were delusional,” I said, “how did they know Nara-Narayana’s location? Are you certain they even knew?”

“Nara-Narayana seemed positive they knew, and demanded swift action. We never figured out how they knew. And after two hundred thousand years, we still don’t.”

Morion whistled. “Are you saying you’re over two hundred thousand years old?”

“It’s hard for even me to comprehend my age. Now wait! You’ve made me think of another item we may need.” Fanbert retrieved something like a hand-cannon. “Two hundred thousand years is a long time to be in any one place, even when in temporal stasis. The Prophets have, in all likelihood, been buried by the sediments of time. This entropy gun will help us excavate them if necessary.” Fanbert handed it to Orsteen and then disappeared into a maze of alcoves formed by his massive collections. He at last reappeared with a stack of clothes. “These should fit you. Their lack in style is made up by their durability and comfort.”

“Did you say we’re headed closer to the celestial phenomenon?” asked Morion.

“We are,” said Fanbert. “To a galaxy at the near edge of the celestial phenomenon.”

I grabbed a set of clothes from Fanbert. “The phenomenon has been expanding at more frequent intervals.”

“It’ll be dangerous. Everything could go bad in a second.” Fanbert’s mouth gaped wide from a yawn. “We should get some sleep. The world we’re headed for has been left untended by man for many millennia. We may need our strength.”

I didn’t feel like sleeping. I lay motionless, contemplating my mental state and the powers I was gaining.

What is the energy of the Fume doing to me? Right now it festers inside me.

I shuddered—I thought to feel it squirm, like a parasite tunneling through my brain. I bit my lip till I tasted blood.

What of the celestial phenomenon? Why does it pull on my mind with such force? Am I connected to it? How? Why?

There were too many questions. My thoughts turned to Allienora—her round blue eyes, her soft skin, her vanilla smell.

I miss you, my darling.

At last, I slept.

FEEDBACK

We arrived on the planet where the Prophets slept
and were captivated by the celestial phenomenon, which saturated nearly half the sky. It cast a brilliant glow on the landscape before us, and only from the absence of a sun did we determine it was night.

“It’s both breathtaking and terrifying,” said Orsteen. “Our eyes gape wide at the end of the universe. We’re too small to stop this. We are but men trying to move mountains.”

I experienced the scene more viscerally—I felt the power of the phenomenon pulsing in and out of my being like the ebb and flow of an ocean tide. After a while, the sensation faded to become no more than a second heartbeat. “We must do what we can, no matter how impossible it may seem, Orsteen. Even an insect can cause an avalanche.”

“Speaking of mountains,” said Fanbert, looking off into the distance at a snow-capped peak. “I don’t remember this peak. The landscape has transformed substantially more than anticipated.” Fanbert retrieved an ocular device. He held it to his eye and looked to the ground. “If I remember correctly, the Prophets should be three meters below us. Yet, I don’t detect them.”

I surveyed the jagged and mountainous landscape. To the right meandered a canyon cut deep by a small river. To the left and at a more immediate distance was a wall of sheer cliffs supporting a forest of peach-leaved trees.

“Could they have moved with the shifting landscape?” I suggested.

“Unlikely,” said Fanbert, shaking his head with conviction. “The temporal stasis device attached to each Prophet will maintain their exact location with relation to the center of the planet. In effect, nothing can move them. They’re fixed in space as well as time.” He again pointed the ocular device in the direction of the supposed resting place of the Prophets. “Then again, anything’s possible.”

Orsteen repositioned the large entropy gun over his shoulder. “Is there another way to locate them?”

“No,” said Fanbert. “I had expected to locate them by their planetary coordinates.”

“We should move to higher ground,” I said. “Maybe we can get a better view of our surroundings.”

Everyone agreed and we moved with determined strides in the direction of the snow-capped peak. The sun started rising, warming our backs.

Morion pointed into the distance. “Just above that cliff, I saw an unnatural glimmer, like the dance of light reflecting off metal. There it is again!”

“I also see it,” said Orsteen.

After a brief assessment of the terrain, we plotted the best route to avoid the steeper and more dangerous parts of the cliff. A short but exhausting hike brought us to the top of the cliff and into the presence of three behemoth spaceships, each partially buried, protruding up from the ground at haphazard angles.

“What craftsmanship!” said Orsteen. “Such creations aren’t meant to be trapped in the dense atmosphere of a planet, but free to float in the ether of outer space.”

I pushed my head forward. “For being abandoned for two hundred thousand years, they appear unblemished by the elements. In fact, they’re polished to a mirror’s surface.”

Fanbert looked up from his ocular device. “I’m in agreement. Their preservation over the eons is surprising.”

Morion squinted. “What are those things clinging to the surfaces of the ships?”

Fanbert trained his ocular device on them. “People! With lank limbs, plump bodies, and suction cups attached to their knees and elbows. I think they’re cleaning the hulls.”

“I thought no one was left on this planet,” I said.

Fanbert shook his head in wonder. “There shouldn’t have been. It’s possible they’re an alien evolution.”

I stepped forward. “Let’s get a better look.”

We moved closer to the ships, but were soon confronted by the same kind of alien as those attached to the ships by suction cups. He looked male. His skin had a light blue tinge. His large eyes had great big pupils rimmed with green. He seemed primitive, wearing simple white garments and holding a long, rusty blade in his hand.

“Halt, strange creatures! You trespass on sanctified land!”

Fanbert implemented his dimensional transporter and appeared directly behind the alien. With little effort, Fanbert snatched away his clumsy blade.

The alien extended his lank arms in a defensive posture. “Back! Stay back!”

“Interesting,” I said. “If I’m not mistaken, our ability to understand him indicates he has a biolinguistic lobe, and is thus a Brahman descendent.”

“You’re correct.” Fanbert waved the man’s blade in front of him. “What are you doing here? How have you come to this planet?”

“Your questions suggest my people’s claim to this land is in dispute. Our history here extends back through the ages.”

“And when did this history begin?” asked Fanbert.

“The details of the past are blurred like a drunk man’s vision. My people find it unhealthy to fixate on the past, and instead concentrate on the future, where we’re all headed.”

Fanbert stabbed the man’s rusty blade into the ground. “These people aren’t the Prophets’ descendents. It’s possible they’re from the only other inhabited solar system in this galaxy. Since its distance is so great, we didn’t think they’d find this planet. I guess we were wrong.”

“In any event, they’re here now,” I said, turning to the local inhabitant. “Why do you polish these ships so diligently?”

“Only those who remain loyal until the return of the
Elevated Ones are allowed passage to the Celestial Homeworld.”

“The Celestial Homeworld?” said Morion.

“A paradise where all your desires are granted and all hardships alleviated.”

“So you’re a religious people?” asked Orsteen.

“We prefer the term Devotees. Come, I’ll show you our practices—unless you’re going to kill me. In which case, I’d prefer to be knocked on the head so my body is unscathed for the Rite of Preservation.”

I returned the man’s rusty blade. “We’re not going to harm you or your people. Please, lead the way and we’ll follow.”

“Very well. My name’s Marden. I’m head of territorial security and maintenance. Since you’re here peacefully, I’m obligated to invite you to join us in the service of the Elevated Ones. We don’t discriminate or turn away those willing to be devout in our ways. Though, I must admit, you’d be the first not born into them.”

“Thank you,” I said. “We’ll consider your offer.”

Marden led us to the closest ship. It was farther than we expected—its size was so great that its distance was misleading. We moved through a small farm, past a cluster of primitive dome-roofed dwellings, and at last came to the base of the ship.

Marden touched the ship thoughtfully. “If you place your hand on the surface, you’ll notice it’s warm to the touch. This is the divine heat, which doesn’t dwindle on even the coldest days. As you can see, there are many Devotees presently giving their daily service to satisfy the Elevated Ones.” Marden looked up to a dizzying height at the many figures attached precariously to the ship’s hull. “With a passionate, counterclockwise motion, they polish the hull with a sacred cloth weaved by our women from the delicate underbelly hairs of a burrowing animal called a droobsy mouse.”

As Marden continued to detail the exact weaving pattern of the cloth, Fanbert continued to peer through his ocular device, searching in all directions. Marden noticed his distracted behavior and, with a brisk hand clapping, called for his attention.

Marden indicated a Devotee descending from the ship’s hull. “When a Devotee finishes his daily service, as brother Darden has, the cloth, which has become positively charged with the divine heat of the hull, must be taken to the fire beacon. Come, we’ll follow Darden.”

We followed the man along a dirt path that curved through a tree-covered hillock, across a cold rocky stream and finally ended at a grass carpeted clearing. There, we found a large fire pit surrounded by over a hundred enormous telescopes, all pointing over the snow-capped peak.

Marden continued: “Darden now throws the positively charged cloth into the fire beacon, which remains lit at all times. The rich gray smoke produced from the burning cloth is a signal to the Elevated Ones that his daily service is done. He’s now free to look to the heavens through a great eye and pray for the Elevated Ones to return, so they may pilot their chariots back to the Celestial Homeworld with him aboard.”

I noticed an elderly Devotee limping to the fire beacon. “And your ancestors also performed this ritual?”

“They did, with as much pride and zeal as we do today.”

“Isn’t it discouraging to know your ancestors worked their entire lives in the service of these Elevated Ones, only to die without being delivered to the Celestial Homeworld?”

Marden laughed. “This is an understandable concern that’s easily resolved. Those who have died before the return of the Elevated Ones are allowed the Rite of Preservation, in which their bodies are submerged in a potent brine derived from a local plant extract. After thirty days of submersion, their bodies remain preserved until the return of the Elevated Ones, who have the power to resurrect these loyal Devotees.” Marden made a sympathetic look. “If the four of you are to gain favor from the Elevated Ones, you’ll need to start offering your services immediately. We believe the appearance of this awesome light in the sky is a sign of their return.”

“We’ll keep this in mind,” I said, nodding with fake concern. “However, before we join you in worship, we’d like a better look at these fine lands composing your community. We wish to know the full quality of your lifestyle.”

Marden raised his brow curiously. “I see no reason to hesitate in your devotion. Who in their right mind would refuse the promise of paradise? When a thirsty man is presented with a glass of water and a mug of ale, doesn’t he leave the water for the dogs?”

Orsteen puffed his chest out. “This may be a truth to live by, but only if you know the ale is a quality brew.”

Marden contemplated for a moment. “Very well. You’re welcome to look around, but first we should announce your peaceful intentions to my people. Otherwise, they may sneak up behind you and cut off your heads with a pair of farming shears.” Marden led us onward. “Since the appearance of the great light, we’ve been holding a continual feast at the Pantheon Gardens, where all but those performing their daily services are celebrating. I’ll take you there now.”

We arrived at a beautiful stone-paved patio open to the sky and surrounded by gardens of bell-shaped flowers wafting a honey-sweet aroma. The blue-skinned residents were caught up in a joyful celebration. A group of children blew vigorously into large, twisted gourds, creating an uplifting music that resonated throughout the patio. Everyone in attendance was invigorated by the glow of the phenomenon and let loose their inhibitions, moving rhythmically to the music.